Cause I'm Lonely
by Siarc
Summary: The silence, for once, was making her nervous. Having him gone made her realize how she took his words for granted. Fem!Itachi, slight Kisa/Fem!Ita.


Warnings: This was not proofread well, so may contain errors. Apologies in advance.

Fem!Itachi might be interpreted as OOC. Just know that all attempts were made to make her seem like a realistic female version of Itachi, the_ true_ Itachi.

Also, there's slight Kisa/Fem!Ita.

It's a drabble, too. Written to reggae songs. So if you want the feeling I got, you know what genre to listen to.

* * *

The silence, for once, was making her nervous. By now, her partner's light conversation was something she had grown so used to. But having him gone these past few days made her realize how much she took his words for granted.

She barely ever looked at him when he spoke. Pretended to ignore him. But she knew every word he spoke, listened with mild interest. And Kisame had stopped waiting for replies years ago.

Their quarters were nice and clean. She had gotten to the point where she couldn't sit still and had tackled the place, having never been cleaned before. It wasn't used often, but it had still accumulated plenty of critters and lots of dust.

Now, with the place completely spotless, the air fresh, she began to miss Kisame's voice at her side. The thumping of his huge feet on the floor. The small noises that left his throat when not talking: grunting, grumbling, sighing. She wouldn't deny her missing him. They had been side by side nonstop for how many years now?

But two weeks apart was proving to be too much for her.

He was always at the back of her mind, wherever she turned. She cradled her side with mild anger, feeling the heavy bandages beneath.

But business couldn't wait. Injured or not, someone had to take care of the missions and assignments. She had readied herself to leave, only to have a wall of blue opposing her exit.

"You're only gonna get yourself into more trouble," he said, and this time there was no playfulness in his tone, "Stay. It's an easy mission."

She shot him a horrid glare, but his straight face told her being stubborn would get her only one place: here.

The couch had been made Itachi's residence these past few days. Besides from cleaning, eating, and bathroom business, she didn't leave it. It was a horrible experience, and even began to feel restless. Not enough rest was bad, but too much didn't do her much better.

Boredom sent her to weird places. Cleaning had been the ice breaker, but after that things were done shamelessly.

She wandered through closets and dressers and nooks and crannies, searching for anything that might interest her. Spent time in front of the bathroom mirror, tending to her hair: pulling it up in different ways, braids, ponytails, half-and-halfs, anything she felt. She was daring enough to even spend a day running around in just undergarments, and that had admittedly been nice.

But now her ideas had run dry. She wasn't allowed to leave until Kisame returned, by direct order, and he would not return for another two days. Feeling lazy and grimy, she started off that day in a luxurious smelling bath, having not enjoyed one since she was younger. Her mind and eyes wandered. Pale, small toes. Dark blue window curtains. A small cloak, with an empty hook next to it.

She sank under the water with aggravated bubbles and noises. She kept listening for his voice and felt a pang of disappointment when she realizes, two more days.

And these were slightly foolish things to think, but it was easy to blame it on loneliness. How often were they separated? Never! He was like half of her now, and she tried hard not to let that get to her, but the more time she had to think, the more she started to over obsess about every little thing. Sasuke, Kisame, life, meanings, funny smells, the way her cooking skills had not improved and how it didn't matter.

A small noise from the living room caused her to jump from the water, but she went back under when she realized she had left the television on.

Today she decided would be towel day. So she wandered about her by now habitual routine of looking the place over, getting in every nook and cranny, as usual. She turned the television to the news and left it on in the background, trying to substitute his voice, but to no avail.

She found her bed and laid in it. Got up and got on his bed instead. His was softer, she decided.

Went through his dresser. So much clothing he didn't wear.

It hadn't even struck her that this was like an invasion of privacy by technicality. Ah, what did she care. It's what he gets for forcing her into this boring little hell. Maybe she'd hide his boxers in fun places and force him to look for them while she growled mean things at him and made him woe his existence. Nah, she wasn't that bored, or weird. Or creepy.

She went through her own clothing, realizing that she had a lot of clothing stuffed back in drawers and in the closet that were her clothing from a few years ago. She spent an hour or so trying on old clothing, keeping the things that fit, and tossing the things that didn't on a pile on the floor that would be disposed of.

Her boredom! Oh god, Kisame was really such an amusing guy. That ever-present distraction from her self-destructive mind. She had taken him so heavily for granted, and now it ate at her brain like a mean little bug that wouldn't die no matter how many times you tried to squash it.

Then a nap. The extra sleep wasn't all that bad, but she had odd dreams because it was sleep she really didn't need. Kisame in women's panties. Sasuke stabbing their mother and father with a giant french fry.

Her subconscious was going crazy. She opened every window, and closed them again an hour later.

"Kisame." She grumbled, as though expecting him to come around from some corner like he'd been there the whole time. But her soft, slightly higher pitched voice echoed in the empty rooms. She got up, aggravated, made herself a meal. Got a little more angry when, like she did half the time without realizing it, cooked too much, thinking Kisame was there.

He really had a strong grip on her mind. She should really do something to show her appreciation to him. As she ate a steaming plate of breakfast at midnight, she thought about subtle ways to show appreciation.

Maybe just an 'I missed you' when he returned. But that was much too straightforward. That would expose her and he would jump all over it, as was his nature. He would never let it go. Even poke fun at her. She was scary, but Kisame's fear of her ended at their everyday encounters, because she was who she was.

A she. Almost a foot shorter than him. Much thinner. Much more patient and feminine and, God forbid, tame. He had respect for her, of course, but she knew what he thought of her. She was deadly, but there was that ever-nagging thing between them that he could still get away with things because she was not completely ruthless at heart.

Oh, but anyways. How her thoughts would stray.

So, 'I missed you' is a huge maybe, leaning on a no. Physical contact? Maybe a pat on the back. But that'd seem awkward. She could get away with bro-hugging him if she was dumb enough to go and pat his shoulder.

Oh, but a hug? Also so direct. And that would escalate quickly. She was a woman, he was a man. He'd pick up on something, and then so would she, and then oh God-

No more of that. No hugs, no touching.

Maybe a meal or something? But he might not be hungry.

Oh? But how about a hearty 'welcome home'. But how could she be hearty? There'd be that problem of over-exposure, and she could easily botch it and the 'welcome home' would sound sarcastic if she didn't check herself.

If it didn't hit him in the face and make him do the whole awe thing, he'd make fun of her. Surely.

She took a big bite of eggs, staring at her freshly painted toenails. She had painted them four times over these days.

How about a smile? No words. No touch. Just one big, genuine smile.

And then she was in the bathroom, trying on smiles.

The first one just looked stupid. How long had it been since she smiled?

The second one, broader, looked even worse, because she was forcing it.

Then she tried closing her mouth, with a little smile. Ah, that one looked okay. But would he notice it?

She'd just have to try to be genuine with it was all. While she was there, eating, she played more with her hair, tying it up in a stupid bun on top of her head like girls nowadays liked to do, or so she'd seen.

Full stomached, she fell asleep to sitcom reruns on the television, dreaming of smiling at her partner and him laughing in her face.

The next day was passed awkwardly again. And then she started feeling excited.

She really had no other life, did she? Getting excited for the first time in how long, over what? Her partner walking through the door tired and ragged?

She rolled over on the couch, going full naked today without a care in the goddam world. But then she realized he could come home a day early and so she slung a blanket over herself. Nice.

Television occupied her mostly, along with going through more of Kisame's drawers.

She found nothing interesting. Any personal belongings he had he kept on him, as though he was afraid that people like his squirrelly partner would come around and snoop. And she felt no guilt.

And then she opened his closet, and gaped. It was so messy, no wonder he always wore all the same clothes.

She occupied herself with putting on his clothing, each piece separately. She pulled on one of his shirts and it flowed like a river down her body. It was like wearing a dress, but it only reached mid thigh. She gazed at herself in the mirror, in his giant shirt, with her hair knotted up in that lazy bun on the top of her head. No makeup on for once either. No bra, or panties (this fact actually made her laugh, and she wondered what would happen if she watched him put this shirt on in the future. Would she laugh, knowing she was naked under it at one time in a stupid fit? Oh god.)

She liked how it looked though. She liked it a lot. _A lot._

Itachi held up a pair of his pants, and didn't even try it. Much too long, much too long. She made sure to be articulate with her snooping, putting everything back in place as she found it.

But she didn't want to take off this shirt of his. She sat on her own bed (unused for quite a while), and stared at that mirror.

These were weird thoughts. She'd been cooped up much too long, and it wasn't good for her sanity.

And then suddenly she decided she wasn't going to give this shirt back. It was warm and cozy, and smelled strongly of her partner's light cologne, and natural misty scent. When had he ever worn it? She'd wear it to bed, instead of having to wear her issued uniform. It'd be much more cozy, and she still didn't have to worry about being exposed. She practiced her smile and then put on a pair of panties before going back out into the living room.

The next day came, and her belly coiled in a tight knot. She couldn't eat, couldn't sleep. In fact, she even caught herself gazing out the window hopefully only to see the towering trees all around their huge headquarters (built into a tree, mind you. And they were at the top level). Feeling foolish, she returned to the couch, trying to focus on the news, but every little noise made her jump off the couch.

"You need to pull it together," she mumbled, rubbing her temples. She rebunned her hair, picked at her fingernails, repainted them.

But when night came and he had yet to return, she felt frustrated.

Where was he? If she had been with him they would have been home, promptly. Right on time. Would he be late a few days?

Oh, he better not. Or maybe her greeting wouldn't be so nice.

She relented to the couch's grip, and smooshed her face into her pillow. She grumbled into it, scratching at the wound on her side that was barely a wound now.

Sleep was edging in on her, but she didn't want it. She curled up on the couch, pulling her knees up close to her face, completely ignorant that her legs were still bare and if he walked in he'd see a fair amount of her ass because of these panties. But her eyelids were falling very heavily over her eyes, and she figured, why not? Sleep took her away.

A noise invaded her dreams. She opened an eye. It was dawn outside, and she heard heavy thumping from a ways away approaching. She say up, rubbed her eyes, observing the noise. It didn't bother her, but it was familiar-

She stumbled up out of the bed, her breath hitching. She edged over to the window, peaked out, and caught a glimpse of blue.

"Finally," she breathed, and she had to admit, this was the first thing she had been truly excited for in years.

Not bothering to wait, Itachi opened the door, and the light was dim enough that she didn't have to squint. A few feet away stood her partner, just as he always looked. Samehada hung onto his back, the cloak covering his meaty figure. A slightly tired expression on his sharp, blue face, but that was wiped away by a look of great surprise, his little golden orbs widening.

"Kisame."

And there goes the smile. Small, pretty, and she felt there was _genuine_ happiness behind it. Itachi imagined how she must have looked in that moment leaning in their doorway, her messy hair tied up and falling in her face and neck, wearing his t-shirt, barefoot, a little sleepy looking, and _smiling_. Because she never smiled at him. _Ever_.

And his response was so perfect. His cheeks lit on fire, a blazing purple. Stalk-still, daring not move, and she was sure she could hear the workings of his brain stop at that moment. A small smile played his lips, very different from the usual toothy grins he wore.

And she loved doing this to him somehow.

"Itachi-san, what…" he finally managed, taking a step closer as though testing to see if this was reality or he was dreaming. She held the traces of the smile on her face still, as she listened to this voice she had pinned over for these last few weeks. "What are you… doing in my shirt?"

Her face melded back to the normal, stoic look, and she said, "Your shirt? This is mine." And she turned around and walked back inside, leaving the door open for him.

In one of the mirrors, she could see the huge, purple-tinted grin on his face as he walked in after her, with a relieved sigh.

Itachi had missed Kisame. Maybe, just maybe, he had missed her too.


End file.
